A Chance Arrangement
by Gemleaf
Summary: Sibbi Black-Briar has been murdered by someone the Silver-Blood's hired. The start of a war between the two families imminent, everyone is trying to predict the Black-Briar's next move. Ultimately, it's up to her.


She was thinking. Staring at the letter, measuring her own actions, but above all planning her next move. Those eyes remained cold and alert even after days of no sleep, but the tremor in her hands revealed the human weakness she so scorned. Brynjolf wouldn't say a single word about it. "So the Silver-Bloods want to expand their little empire..." she trailed off, the rest of the thought voiced silently, "We'll humor them. Draw up a 'treaty', bide some time until I decide on an action. The last thing I want to do is involve myself with those savages for a piece of land."

"Not a fan of the Forsworn, eh?"

"Too messy. Loose ends, angry families, a whole world of outrage and resistance. Not going down that road again. And who wants that skeleton in their closet? People will tolerate a lot of things, but Forsworn isn't one of them." That pure amorality sometimes sent a chill down his back. Gathering a bit of courage, he cleared his throat.

"So, you're managing, right?"

Maven didn't even turn to look at him. She examined her own writing a few times before ordering an attendant to fetch her some parchment. "I have no idea what you mean. Best be straight forward if you're trying to imply something, Brynjolf. Bashfulness only makes me angry." Hands slightly clenched, the woman folded her arms as though something cold blew through the room. A moment of silence followed.

"You're son was just killed and you haven't said a word about it." At this, she turned around and closed her eyes, trying to process the words with the lack of sleep. He felt nervous, having said it, but knew that she wasn't prone to lashing out at people for annoyances.

"He was the heir because of his leading qualities, and the family is set back now that he's gone. Oh, I'll say some kind words at the funeral. It is a shame - a waste of talent, really. But like his mother, no one will really miss him." the words had a callous edge, and she sighed as soon as she said them. "It must sound so horrid to you, though. Tell me, what did you think of Sibbi?"

The man paused, "It's not my job to talk about your family."

"It is your job to do what I say and answer my questions, though, is it not?" He nodded.

"I always thought he was scum. A waste of air, especially after what he did to that poor woman." she raised her eyebrow, the slightest hint of a smirk lurking beneath the surface. "Really? I mean, I'm not surprised, but I didn't think you'd be so blunt about it. And so what are you worried about then?"

Awkwardly, he moved towards the fading hearth (the only source of light and warmth in the dark room). "These kinds of situations can be... difficult. No matter who it is." In a moment, she, from a respectful distance, patted him on the shoulder. It was the most out of character thing she ever did in his whole career. "You had better listen well, lest you make the same mistake again. Your line of work includes many things. What it doesn't include is worrying about my mental health. Do we understand this?"

He nodded once more, about to focus back on the original discussion. "So is it an outright war? I don't know about tangling with the Silver-Bloods. They don't play by the same rules over there. There's no fun in what they do."

Maven replied blankly, "Are you implying that what we do is fun?"

"Well, maybe what I do. Although I think you'd be lying if you said you didn't get a kick out of using your power when it suits you." What was with him, running his mouth all of a sudden? But she simply shook her head. "That's what you think, then. I'll have you know that I use my power very responsibly. I've only sent four nuisances to prison in the last month, I think I deserve some kind of medal." It took a few seconds for him to register that she had made a joke.

"But I understand your concern. The Silver-Bloods are a lot more... murderous. Maybe it was a mistake to upset them. All I know is that they insulted my family - my city - by doing what they did. If the Black-Briar's are not to be safe in Riften, then the Silver-Bloods will not be safe in Markarth. They think they have the upper hand, and that it is a mistake I won't tolerate."

"_Do_ they have the upper hand, though?"

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of the young man rushing up the stairs, "I-I'm sorry! Someone moved the parchment, so it took me longer than usual." She took the items from him and placed them on the desk. "Don't worry about it, lad. Take this and forget about anything you heard up here." Brynjolf gave him a small bag of coins and he was gone.

She sat down and began drawing up a letter, continuing where she last left off. "I've been thinking about it a lot lately. Any amount of silver west of Whiterun is bound to have gone through them at least once. I suspect that they're becoming a patron of the Dark Brotherhood - how else would they have gotten to Sibbi in his own cell? They're far more violent and ruthless than any sort of competition I've ever had to deal with." You know to take a group seriously when a Black-Briar, especially Maven, calls them ruthless.

"So what makes you think you can go up against them?"

"My city is under control. No elements like the Forsworn, unless you count that nuisance Mjoll. I have mercenaries, too. I just don't have common protesters murdered. What that shows me is not that they have more resources, it's that they can't handle being questioned without going to extreme measures. It certainly is going to be a messy conflict - but their lack of discretion will cost them dearly in the long run." there wasn't a single waver in her voice. She had full faith in herself, and by extension, him.

The fire highlighted her eyes, dark, exhausted, and yet more awake than ever. "As always, the Guild is right behind you." Finishing the last of the writing, she stood up and walked towards him. Clearly she had just thought of something she hadn't considered before.

"You don't have to throw yourself head first into a conflict like this."

He hadn't expected her to say something like that. It was just a silent agreement that the interests of the Black-Briars are above that of his guild. "It's a high risk situation, for sure. I won't force anyone in my guild to involve themselves in this. But we're thieves. We like risk, and we certainly love rewards. At least, that's why I do what I do."

"Hm, always thought thieves like money."

"I have no doubt you'll pay us handsomely."

Beginning to relax, she took a swig of mead and handed another bottle to him. "Please, indulge yourself." Hesitantly, he raised the bottle to his lips. It was a particularly good batch - sweet and heavy, the kind she reserved for herself instead of selling. Maybe she wanted more information, or maybe she was looking to defuse the moment, but that didn't matter to him. "But do you trust us?"

Maven didn't pause. "No. Not even remotely. You're a bunch of common thugs in my book, and would betray me in an instant if someone had more coin and protection. Which is why these Silver-Bloods need to be put in their place. Before it comes to all that." It was his turn to smirk, folding his arms and drinking more heavily.

"Ouch. You've never been very sentimental."

"So you all are just too fond of me to work for them? I've been known to have that effect on people." she chuckled: a low, raspy, incredibly rare noise. Leaning on the wall now, she sighed. "But it's not just survival. There's an opportunity in this. A bit of silver for you and your merry band of cutpurses. If I can weaken them, there'll be entirely new areas to profit from. Maybe new businesses... But that's a bit of a stretch. I do like the sound of 'Black-Briar Silver' though. And those workers have had such terrible conditions that they'd think I was the better option. Imagine that? The locals might actually like me. Not that it matters."

Bloodshed. That was what he feared the most. Perhaps what she feared as well. "What can I say, power suits you."

She looked up with the slightest look of pleasure and approval - clearly she liked what he was saying. Hands still shaking as she gripped the bottle, she continued. "Flattery is an underhanded tactic, don't you think? Honestly, I expected better. This is why I can't trust you." Without thinking, her arms found their way around his neck, his around her waist, like an old habit that wouldn't die.

"Among people like us, there'll always be a little bit of doubt." Maven often wouldn't rest against his shoulder. She would look at him, caressing the line of his jaw and neck. It all felt so familiar. "But somehow we always manage to fall back on this... 'arrangement' when things get rough."

Uncertainly, he kissed her forehead. "Being alone is tedious, Brynjolf."


End file.
